Furry Little Problem
by PhantomSpannah
Summary: Marauder Era: When James discovers Remus after his transformation, can he keep a secret? And what will happen when other secrets are discovered? How long can the pair resist the taboo temptations? JPRL
1. The Mysterious Door

**My first Marauder Era/Slash fic – so be kind. I wrote this on an impulse in reply to some of ****WinButler****'****s**** fics. This first instalment was read at a Christmas party to fellow fans, I now hope to continue it. Let me know what you think.**

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The lanterns flickered and hissed as James Potter strode purposefully down the empty passageway, wand held aloft in front of him. The soft light emitting from the tip was bright enough to light up the immediate area surrounding him, picking out portraits and stationary suits of armour as he passed by. He was too busy dwelling on plans for the Marauders' next outing whilst working on a good excuse for the lateness of his unwritten essay for McGonagall. Late night parties and trips under the invisibility cloak, combined with quidditch practice and pursuing Lily Evans, did not tend to leave much room for homework. James grinned to himself, remembering a rather excellent flying practice the previous evening that culminated in a shy smile from Evans.

_Skitter-skatter_

James gasped and spun around on his heel at a sudden noise to his left. His tensed shoulders slumped as he spotted the source of the sound: a mouse peering out of the nearby suit of armour belonging – according to the inscription – to the nineteenth century witch, Jodie the Jubilant. He sighed, annoyed at himself for getting scared, and relieved that no-one had been there to witness his cowardice. He ran one hand through his mussed-up hair, not bothering to try and flatten the constantly upright quiff at the front; he hated doing night-time prefect duty.

"It's not even like it's my duty anyway," James muttered to himself, irritated. "What could be so important that Remus has to be excused his duty every four weeks?" He kicked at the suit of armour to relieve some tension.

Jodie the Jubilant did not take too kindly to this treatment and fell on him.

_SCRASHTER!_

It took James a good couple of minutes to untangle himself from breast-plate and scabbard, eventually able to reach his wand. Muttering to himself about "back pockets" and "bloody statues", he flicked and swished the wand:

"_Wingardium Leviosa"_

The pieces of metal flew from off him, hovering a few metres above. Another flick and a muttered "_Reparo_" and Jodie the Jubilant was once more complete and leering over him in her customary position.

Getting up, James dusted his knees down and made to carry on with his patrolling. And it was at that precise moment that he heard the sound that would forever change his life.

_ggrrrrraaaaoooowwww_

A low humming growl was coming from a door hidden just behind the suit of armour. James stopped dead in his tracks as the first curious noise was replaced by a second: a keening whimper. Not being able to resist his curiosity, the young Gryffindor crept up to the door and put his ear flush to the wood.

From inside there came a slight panting occasionally accompanied by a strange, muffled scraping. James desperately wanted to investigate further; he could feel the regret already burning him up if he were to walk away now. Once again lifting his wand high, he whispered "_Alohomora_" and tapped the lock on the door.

Silently, the great wooden portal swung open, revealing a chink of strange light from within.

Peering around the gap, James took a deep breath and entered the room. The sight that struck him practically took his breath away.

The room was dimly lit apart from a bar of silvery moonlight coming from the dust, stained-glass window. It cast an eerie glow on everything it touched: the ripped curtains hanging from the window-rail; a worn, old armchair with ripped upholstery; strange gouge marks in the wooden floorboards. Everything about the room spoke of old age and decay, and yet James sensed that the rips and tears in the fabrics were somehow more recent additions to the dilapidated furniture. Taking in everything the light touched, James turned his head to scan the rest of the room.

He stopped still as he saw shivering, shuddering form that leant hunched over a broken table.

It was evidently human, and probably male, though it was difficult to tell. The trousers, if that was what they were, bore rips around the knees and a slit that ran all the way up the back of one leg, revealing pale skin beneath. The remnants of a shirt clung to its backed, ripped almost in two; it hung like the curtains at his sides. The body beneath rose and fell with heavy breathing, and James could make out almost every vertebrae beneath the sweaty skin.

The lighting and the vulnerability of that creature made the scene before him somehow indescribably and yet hauntingly, beautiful. Having forgotten to breathe, James suddenly needed air and gulped it down nosily. The creature spun around in fright and stared at James.

Tears were streaming from the stricken and scarred face. There was fresh blood around the mouth, and sweat-slicked hair was plastered to its forehead. The dark eyes gleamed out of hooded lids, and in them, James sensed a strange recognition.

He gasped.

"Remus?"

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**To Be Continued...**

**R & R please!**


	2. Creatures and Secrets

**Well – some of you seem to enjoy this – so here's the second chapter!**

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For one second the creature looked at him, and suddenly, with a bound, it had pounced on him.

James yelled loudly as Remus – or whatever it was – knocked him to the floor. In a flurry of fur and teeth and panting breath he found the thing bent over him; its gaping maw barely inches from his face. Not wanting to wait for it to strike, James gritted his teeth and attempted a futile search for his wand. He groaned inwardly when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, his wand – his only defence – lying feet away on the floor.

Therefore, as he anticipated sharp teeth digging into his neck, the last thing James Potter was expecting was for the creature to speak.

"Swear to me that you won't tell anyone what you saw?" It growled down at him, eyes blazing with fervour.

James couldn't even manage a stutter.

"_SWEAR TO ME_!" The growl was louder this time, and far more aggressive.

James heard the blood pumping in his ears.

He felt the dank breath of the thing above him on his teeth.

He could see the outline of the horrific creature in the moonlight; its teeth; its gleaming eyes.

Then he knew nothing and all was black.

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When he came to, James found himself propped up against the cold wall of some darkened room. Blinking a couple of times, he scanned the area for clues, noticing for the first time the throbbing headache he had acquired. He soon caught sight of the ripped curtains and broken furniture and suddenly realised where he was. _It's that room I stumbled into last night – it's where..._

James stopped dead and spun around in search of the terrifying creature that so haunted his memories. There didn't seem to be any signs of life in the room, human or otherwise, and he allowed himself to relax a little, sighing with relief.

"James?"

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his name, looking around wildly for its source. All of a sudden, he noticed them. A figure shrouded in rags, emerging from the shadowy corner across the room. He looked gaunt and pale, darkened eyes like ink patches against the whitened skin. Whatever it was, James saw that it was lean and in some deal of pain – the creature had a tortured look about it. Unconsciously, the young Gryffindor's pity went out to it.

"Who- what are you?" James eventually managed to croak out his question.

"James, it's me." The voice sounded again, and this time James seemed to recognise it, as though in a distant memory. He didn't reply, but continued to stare – wide-eyed –at the figure.

"It's me, Remus," the figure continued, faltering a little as friend struggled to recognise him.

James just stared. How could this beaten, wearied figure be his best friend? It just didn't fit. Remus Lupin was all about books and studying; staying up late in the common room casting wry glances at James and Sirius' mischief; yelling and cheering his friends on during every quidditch match – poor weather no object. How could these two figures possibly correlate?

"H-how?" He eventually managed a solitary word.

"Well," his friend looked at him curiously, as if pondering how to approach the subject. "It's all a bit complicated – I don't even know if I'm allowed to tell you..." He trailed off lamely, waiting for a reaction.

"Tell me what?" James finally seemed to have found his tongue.

"Like I said – it's complicated – I don't know if Dumbledore would allow-"

"SCREW DUMBLEDORE – WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN IS GOING ON?" The abrupt burst of anger shocked even James. He didn't know where it heralded from, but he suddenly found himself on his feet, wand in hand, and glaring at Remus. He checked his volume, and continued speaking, his voice still inflected with quiet anger.

"You were the one that assaulted me earlier? I was scared out of my wits – you could have killed me. Now – you tell me. What is going on, Remus? Why are you hiding in here? Why do you look as though you've gone through several rounds with a particularly vicious troll? And where the _FUCK_ are you every month when I end up doing your sodding Prefect duty?"

He stood stock still, waiting for an answer. Instead, he saw Remus step up to him, and put out a hand.

"Don't do this James. Not now – I can't answer you right now. Would you put your wand down?" So saying, he stretched out the hand and closed it on James' wrist. Glancing down, James saw that he was pointing the stick straight at his friend; his hand was trembling too. Slowly, he lowered the wand down to his side, and drew in a deep, calming breath.

"Thanks mate," Lupin let out a small sigh of relief.

"Don't you 'mate' me, Remus. I'm nobody's 'mate' until you tell me what's going on here!" James could still fell the anger coursing through him.

Remus bit his lip and winced a little. "Look - James - do you trust me?"

James opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Lupin repeated the phrase, this time with more emphasis. "James – do you _trust_ me? Because right now, I'm on the point of collapsing and I need your help."

Not trusting himself to speak, James conceded that for now he would have to trust his friend, and nodded.

"Good – thanks. Right, I promise I will tell you everything, as soon as I am up to it. Right now I need you to do me a favour. I need Madam Pomfrey, but – this is _really _important – she can't know that you've seen me. Nobody except her and Dumbledore know about all this – please don't ask, James, I'll explain it all to you later. For now I need Madam Pomfr-"

James gasped as his friend sank to the floor in a dead faint. Heeding Remus' advice, he acted immediately. Muttering "_Levicorpus_", he watched as his friend rose a few feet off the floor. This done, he opened the door back into the corridor, and pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket. Shrouding the both of them with the cloak, he left the room quietly and locked it, before starting out up the stairs to the fourth floor, and the hospital wing.

Everything in his head seemed to be switched onto fast forward. He barely remembered the long trek down the corridor, or laying his friends body down gently outside the door to Madam Pomfrey's room. It was all a blur: knocking on the door, throwing the cloak back on, and making a quick exit. Before he knew it, he was safely tucked up in his dormitory.

He lay there staring blankly at the canopy above him, and allowed his mind to run freely at last. He knew that sleep would be difficult to find this night. As he rolled over onto his side, he could hear Remus' voice inside his head.

"_I promise I will tell you everything..."_

As he felt himself finally drift off, Remus' face was all that he saw in his mind's eye.

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**Interested yet? I promise – at some point in the future – there will be smut – be patient.**

**R & R**


	3. Detention With Slughorn

**Update at last!**

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Sitting down to breakfast the next morning in the hubbub of the Great Hall, James began to wonder whether he had indeed dreamt up the events of the previous night. All around him, normality reigned: groups of students happily chattering over their toast and pumpkin juice; droopy-eyed individuals hunched over pots of coffee; post-owls swooping overhead, delivering papers and packages to the eager throng below. Yet James didn't feel like part of the crowd today; somehow they seemed a million miles apart. He didn't feel much like conversation either, and so had come down earlier to breakfast, thus avoiding Sirius and Peter who were late-risers.

Chewing passively on a piece of dry toast he let his mind once again turn over the happenings of the night before. But when, five minutes later, he had still not come to any real conclusion, he gave up on his half-hearted attempts at breakfast and, gulping down the rest of his tea, headed off to the hospital wing.

On reaching his destination, James decided on the spur of the moment, for appearances sake, he had better don his invisibility cloak. After all, it would look rather suspicious if he knew that Remus was in there before anyone had officially been informed. Secrecy seemed to be of the upmost importance for the present. So, whipping the cloak out of his pocket he flung it quickly over himself and slipped through the doors. As he crept down the ward, he noticed a couple of first years sleeping off what appeared to be some sort of potions accident (judging by the receding blue patches on their skin); and a seventh year Ravenclaw who had been involved in a nasty Quidditch accident – James noted that pieces of his broken broom were still embedded in his thigh.

At last, James caught sight of his friend; Remus was dozing in a bed at the very end of the ward, curtained off from the other invalids. Ducking through the curtains, James made certain that Madam Pomfrey was not in the vicinity, before throwing his cloak off and pocketing it.

"Psst - Remus," he whispered, "You awake?"

"Well if I wasn't, do you think I'd be answering you back?" His friend replied in sarcastic undertones, opening up first one, then both eyes. "I take it this isn't purely a social visit?" He continued, eyeing up James' tired eyes and dishevelled appearance. "You not sleep much either?"

"Well, since you ask – no!" James hissed, "After the evening I had last night?"

"Well it wasn't the best of nights for me either," Remus replied dryly, "And I'm fine, by the way – thanks for asking."

"Look – you said you'd explain – I want to know what's going on, Remus." James was in no mood to pussyfoot around the subject.

"Not now," the wry grin slid off Remus' face.

"You said you'd _explain_," James hissed in angry reply, "I've been going mad trying to figure out what in Merlin's name is going on – now are you going to tell me, or am I gonna have to-"

"Do what?" Remus hissed back, angry now too, "Hex me? Right here in the hospital wing? Even you with all your pigheadedness wouldn't attempt that – right under Madam Pomfrey's nose." He paused for breath but continued quickly when he saw that James was getting redder and redder with built up frustration. "Look," he lowered his tone and spoke more softly, "I _promise_ that I will tell you what's going on – but_ not now_. We both need some proper sleep, and I'm still not allowed out of here – I need to be somewhere where nobody can overhear us."

James looked down at him, and took a deep, calming breath, "Alright, so when _are_ you gonna tell me then?"

"Meet me tonight at nine in that room you found me in last night – use the cloak – you mustn't be seen." He emphasised the last four words carefully, looking James straight in the eye. "You know how to find it alright?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Ok, well you better get outta here before Pomfrey finds you," Remus urged his friend to get moving as he saw a glimmer of movement at the other end of the ward, "Quick! You can't know I'm here."

Ducking back under the cloak, James beat a hasty retreat, but before he was quite out of earshot, he heard a quiet "thank-you" from Remus' bed.

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"Hey JP, that was brilliant! It looked so natural – I mean - Jupiter's moons – I couldn't have done better!" James winced as an over zealous Sirius slapped him on the shoulder; he didn't even have the energy to bask in his friend's illegitimate praise.

They had just emerged from Slughorn's potions lesson and he was now one detention richer. Potions had never really been his strongest suit, and it didn't help that Slughorn spent nearly all of his time fawning over Lily Evans – his star pupil. He looked at her the way a hungry walrus stares at its fishy prize; James could tell he doted on her, and expected great things from the witch. He had nothing against Lily, but today she had been the one that had got him in trouble, and he was not at all impressed that Slughorn had scheduled his detention for that evening – he would be late meeting Remus.

"Yeah – how do you do it James? Wish I knew how to be so popular with girls – none of them really like me much." Peter Pettigrew was, as per usual, no more than a few feet behind Sirius; fawning upon him like a wheedling child.

Peter, like Sirius, obviously was under the impression that James had deliberately got himself into trouble for the sake of his image and their amusement. Usually, this wouldn't have been a problem – James generally accepted praise, well earned or otherwise, in the hope that one day, girls like Lily might just notice him. Remus never got involved, and Peter stayed on the sidelines, but Sirius was always on hand to help or hinder the process. The accident in potions was, however, entirely non-intentional. He had been staring into space, distracted by thoughts of Remus and his secret, when he had absent-mindedly slipped half a bottle of newts' eyes into his cauldron instead of the prescribed frogspawn. This had resulted in an almighty explosion that destroyed not only his, but the cauldrons, desks, and belongings of everyone within a three-metre radius. It wouldn't have been quite so bad, had it not been Severus Snape and Lily Evans that were caught up in the ensuing chaos; their inflating potions, being the only two that actually worked. Slughorn was soon seen to be escorting a queue of Slytherin's and Gryffindor's sporting and assortment of huge, bulbous noses, ears, hands and feet, to the hospital wing; shouting back down the corridor to James, the details of his detention.

Peter and Sirius thought it was hilarious – a seemingly planned exercise in flirtation with Lily gone horribly wrong.

"And to top it all off – that greasy-nosed – uh, I mean, BIG-nosed-" Sirius found himself helpless with laughter and unable to finish off his sentence.

James sighed and left them to it and jogged on up to the common room; he had a lot of work to get done and now he had no evening to do it in. 'Well who'd have thought I'd be taking a roll out of Remus' parchment?' he pondered to himself as, grabbing his books, he made off for the quiet of the library at a run.

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Nine o'clock saw James hunched over a pile of dirty cauldrons in Slughorn's classroom; scrubbing them clean by hand, his wand being held hostage by the bulky professor behind the desk. He had been at it for just over three hours now, but he refused to show any sign of weakness, lest Slughorn extend this punishment further.

'Honestly – cleaning without magic?' it was just barbaric, James decided. But he kept at it, diligently scrubbing, rinsing and drying the last couple of cauldrons, his mind still running over Remus' great secret – he could not be distracted.

When at last he heard the chair scrape out from the desk, and the heavy goblet of wine set down with a 'kerchunk', James looked up from his work. Peering down at him, a slightly tipsy Slughorn inspected his work. With a brief 'hurumph' of satisfaction, he at last proffered the confiscated wand to James, who whipped it out of his hands, and was out of the door before Slughorn could rise again to stumble heavily in the direction of his chambers.

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Within minutes, James found himself in that oddly quiet corridor on the third floor, racing towards the suit of armour belonging to the infamous Jodie the Jubilant. Practically toppling it for the second-night running in his haste to get past, he grabbed the falling figure just in time, and with a few flicks of his wand, had moved Jodie out of harms way.

Double checking that the corridor was indeed empty, James flicked his wand once more alongside a muttered "A_lohomora_" and pushed the great oaken door open.

With one last check for any signs of life in the corridor, James held his glowing wand aloft, and, with trepidation, slipped inside...

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**Mwahaha – evil Valentine's Day cliffhanger for you there!**

**In other news though, I have at last worked out a plot for the rest of the story – and let me tell you this – it's so brilliant and intricate, I could indeed be Rowling in disguise (that is – if JKR ever wrote slash)...**

**R&R people!**


	4. Remus' Tale

**Last paragraph is already written and waiting to be reached – you'll just have to bear with the story for now!**

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"They'll never make you a prefect, you know."

James glanced hurriedly around the dark room, searching for the owner of the voice.

"Remus? That you?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but there was a notable shake in it.

"Who else are we expecting?" So saying, Remus Lupin stepped out into the patch of moonlight in the middle of the room. James' eyes had just about grown accustomed to the low-light of the room, but still he had to swallow down a gasp of shock. Memories of the previous evening flooded his brain, and somehow, although he knew it was impossible, Remus seemed a little taller, his figure a little more striking. Outlined in the moonlight, his lean frame seemed almost ethereal, yet James sensed the deception of wiry strength – as though, at any moment, he was an animal, poised to strike.

Involuntarily, he took a step back.

"Scared, James?" Remus sounded mildly amused.

"It's like you're different – I can't explain it, mate"

"Ah," Remus raised an eyebrow surreptitiously, "Mates again are we?"

"Course," James' reply was as blunt as his temper. Although he did feel that, however burning his curiosity was, it might be wise to tread carefully – at least until he knew what he was involved in. "Now – err – are you gonna finally tell me what's going on?" adding as a final concession, "Please?"

Sighing, Remus looked straight at his friend; he couldn't avoid it any longer. "Ok James, take a seat; I'm going to tell you everything."

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Taking a deep breath, Remus John Lupin collected his thoughts and fixed his eyes, unblinking, on James Potter.

"It all started when I was younger, aged about five I think; my parents and I lived happily in a small cottage down in the South. My father worked away at the Ministry, so my mother stayed home to look after me and keep me company; I have no siblings and there were few wizarding families nearby. I suppose I was quite a lonely child, but I never really minded much – I was content to spend my days immersed in books and wandering around the countryside. I was never allowed a broom; my mother feared that I might come to some injury or get lost, and couldn't cope with my father absent so often.

Then it all changed. I remember the day quite clearly; my mother had been baking and my father was due in from work – the first time in a month. I stayed up late to see him when he arrived, for I always missed him terribly when he was away; a boy at that age _needs_ his father. I heard the knock on the door and ran down to answer it, my mother hung back in the kitchen, laughing at my eagerness. I pulled open our front door, expecting to see my father standing there, arms open, pockets full of the usual tiny presents; but he wasn't there. Instead, I opened the door and-"

Remus stopped abruptly, and James saw that he was pale and shaking. Wondering what could have prompted this change in demeanour, and concerned for his friend, James got up and went to sit by Remus. Gripping his shoulder for support, he gave him a brief squeeze, indicating that the young Gryffindor should continue his story.

"There was a werewolf," Remus blurted out. But before James could interrupt, the boy carried on quickly, as though afraid he would lose his nerve.

"A werewolf that stood tall and menacing on its haunches; saliva dripped from its hideous jaws, stained fangs reflecting the full moon like unearthly tombstones in that cavernous maw.. It's eyes were terrible..."

Remus gulped loudly and his hand reached up to grip James' own on his shoulder.

"It sprung before I had time to move. I can only remember the pain; my mother's screams; and that blood-curdling noise – it seemed to be the very groan of death. That noise overcame all else; I closed my eyes and felt nothing more."

He stopped again, but this time James didn't interrupt. They both sat in absorbed silence until Remus got up the courage to continue his tale.

"I woke up a week later to find myself heavily bandaged and resting in bed; mother by my side. The first thing I wanted to know was where my father was. I cared nothing for own injury's, all I wanted was the safety of my father's presence – to feel his arms around me once more. My mother tried to distract me at first with books and hugs, but I persisted. Eventually, she tearfully admitted that he had been at home five days before, but had left for London again almost straight away. She said that he had taken one look at me and..."

Remus gulped again, blinking back those forgotten tears of memory. James felt him grip his hand a little harder.

"He was too ashamed of both his son and himself to stay. I never saw him again."

Drawing a deep breath, he carried on, now practically forcing the words out.

"Later on, I was to learn that it was my father's fault that I'd been attacked. I didn't know, but my father worked for the Ministry in the 'Beast' division of the 'Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures'. He had been heading a top-secret mission on the locating and capturing of a rogue clan of werewolves, who were becoming notoriously vicious and active in their attacks. During a raid on a local copse, he had come close to mortally wounding their leader: an unforgiving individual by the name of Fenrir Greyback. He plotted to return the insult, and get back at my father in the worst way possible: to savage his only son, and simultaneously transform him into his father's most hated enemy. So although my injuries healed in less than two weeks, I had been irrevocably damaged by the attack. I was now a carrier of the worst and most incurable illness on this Earth."

Remus turned around to look at his friend, and, holding him in a steady gaze, uttered the sentence that would change their lives forever.

"Yes, James – I had become a werewolf."

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The floor beneath their feet seemed to spin and whirl away from them, as each continued to stare, unblinking, into the other's eyes. Whole minutes ticked away into oblivion as they held that gaze, transfixed, afraid that whoever broke away first would have to speak.

After what seemed like an age, Remus plucked up his courage and spun quickly away, so that he didn't have see James' face convulse into waves of hatred and horror. Yet, feeling that he had left the tale slightly unfinished, he decided to blurt out the remnants of his tale.

"The rest is pretty simple. It was too dangerous to let me out during my transformations, and so, at the full moon, my mother would lead me to the underground shelter at the bottom of our garden, and lock me in there overnight, until I was safe once again. In those days, my transformations were terrible; with no victims to bite, I would chew, tear and claw at my own body, and, blinded by the agony, would howl myself hoarse in that dark hell. I spent much of my childhood in bed recovering from each transformation, and waiting in sick anticipation for the next. I had few friends – it simply wasn't safe to let me out in the world – and so instead I became absorbed in books and learning, convinced that there must be a way to beat the disease.

Eventually, the time came when I was to attend a proper school; my mother was as shocked as I to receive my Hogwarts letter, yet, arrive it did. Within seconds of its appearance, my mother had sat me down to write a letter to Professor Dumbledore, to explain why it would be difficult and indeed dangerous for me to attend school. I was prepared for a negative reply, and so did not get my hopes up. However, when the reply came, it was to say that there was no reason why I should not go to Hogwarts. The headmaster himself came to deliver this message to us personally; he explained that, while my circumstances were unusual, they were not impossible to deal with. I would even say that I think he relished the challenge of taking me on. He promised that all would be sorted and that safety measures were being put into place as we spoke. He then bid us farewell, and reminded my mother that my school supplies would need to be bought in the next couple of days.

I was elated to find myself, after a hectic week of shopping, high-spirits and a tearful farewell, to find myself sitting on the train to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had never dreamt that I could be so happy, when only weeks before I had been considering ending my life completely. Yet soon I was happily immersed in lessons, flying, books, and more importantly, friends. For the first time in my life I had friends.

Dumbledore had told no-one about my condition except Madam Pomfrey, he said it was best to keep things under wraps. So, every full moon, he would escort me to the Whomping Willow in the grounds, and from there, I would enter a secret passage that leads directly to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. I would spend the night there, safe from civilisation during my transformations, and, although they were still immensely painful, I would be escorted back every morning to Madam Pomfrey who would deal with my wounds. She's fantastic with bites and scratches, and most of the time, they are gone by the next day, and no-one is any the wiser.

So, there you have it. That is my great secret, James, and I beg that you keep it to yourself. You may be wondering why it is that I choose to live through one night of agony every four weeks, and why it isn't better to perhaps end my life and its pain. Before you ask though, I will answer. It's you James; you and Sirius and Peter – my friends. You're the ones that make all this worth it; all this secrecy and pain – for the first time in my life I have something to look forward to and enjoy. Friendship, James – don't ever underestimate the power of love."

So saying, Remus sighed slowly and bowed his head, allowing the tears to form quite freely now, and run, unashamed down his tired face.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

**A slightly longer chapter! But I had to get the story concept chugging along nicely – what do you think?**

**R & R as always!**


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